If You Go Out In The Woods
by AvisPatronis
Summary: It's the year 2000, two years after the battle of Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy was given a choice, become an informant against the remaining Deatheaters or see the inside of Azkaban. Now his life is in jeopardy and he's been sent into hiding with one auror who can protect him. If they can only learn to stand each other, that would probably help. Epilogue Non Compliant.
1. Chapter 1

"I can't do this."

"Hermione, we've gone over this, you've already promised-"

"I know what I said, Harry." She snapped in return, looking a tad bit frazzled. Hermione shifted her bag from one shoulder to the other in discomfort with wandering eyes, looking at the cabin behind her, the sky through a thick canopy of leaves, the somewhat muddy soil beneath their feet, anywhere but Harry's face.

"Hermione." His voice was stern now and she finally looked up at him, keeping her bitter expression despite knowing it wouldn't do her much good. He returned her stare before giving in, his hand lifting to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "I know."

"Do you, though?" She asked in a desperate tone. "Do you understand what you're asking me to do, Harry? I know that this is important, but-"

"It's not just important, he could die." Harry retorted. The emphasis he put on his last word made Hermione wince involuntarily. He continued. "And there's no one else. Everyone is scattering around trying to put this fire out, and both you and I know that Ron wouldn't last more than three hours before killing Malfoy himself." She wasn't looking at him again, and Harry placed a hand on her shoulder in an effort to show some form of comfort. "You're the only person I can trust with this, Hermione. Please."

Her face was stuck in a permanent frown, but when she finally responded her voice had the grudging weakness of acceptance. "For how long?"

Harry frowned in return. "You know I can't answer that. For as long as it takes the Ministry to find these insane bastards and bring them in. It could take a while, but it's practically all we're working on right now. Malfoy is the only public informant. That makes him the biggest target. We offered him freedom and protection for information, we have to keep up with our side of the deal, Hermione-"

"I know, I know." She waved her hand at him impatiently, looking back at the cabin again with distaste and seeing a blond head move past a window. She could hear Harry sigh again.

"You're the best dueler we have, if anything happened we need someone who could actually protect him."

"I'd rather be hunting down Deatheaters than living with one."

He ignored the comment. "I'll check in on you randomly. We don't want anyone picking up any patterns. I have to go…"

"Go." She said dismissively, "I'll handle everything here."

Harry seemed pleased in her acceptance and embraced her, hugging her tightly. "Remember, no-"

"No magic. Yes, I know Harry, I'm not dense." She finished for him, finally cracking a small smile and releasing him. "Go and figure out how to stop them so I can get out of here, please?"

"I'll try my best." He returned her smile and took a few steps back, glancing at the cabin one last time before finally flashing her an amused smirk that he was probably holding in the entire time. "Have fun." With that he was gone, disapperated away, and Hermione was left standing there with her bag in the middle of a forest miles away from civilization.

It took her almost an hour to finally go inside, checking the protective charms around the perimeter before the sun started to go down and she had no other choice than to enter the cabin. Anxiety clenched in her chest as she passed the threshold, an uncomfortable weight in the pit of her stomach as she turned to lock the front door and finally set her wand aside in the cabinet beside the coatrack. Pulling the drawer open she saw Draco's wand as well, dark and fierce looking, and when she closed it she turned only to jump in surprise with a little cry.

Draco Malfoy sat on a couch in the living area, looking uncomfortable and more stiff than usual. His back was straight and his hands rested on his legs, steel eyes trained directly on her and unblinking. He still had that insufferably proper air about him, his hair slicked back without a strand out of place, but he seemed thinner than he was two years ago in Hogwarts. There were shadows under his eyes to represent many a sleepless night, and although she could still feel his confident aura practically suffocating her from across the room there was a broken weakness about him that was either new or she had just failed to notice before.

"Are you going to just sit there staring at me?" She hissed at him, her voice more aggressive than she had originally intended, but he didn't seem to notice. He stared for only a moment longer before standing suddenly, breaking his stoic stillness, and striding across the room through an archway into the kitchen. Hermione blinked. "Where are you going?"

"To get something to eat." He called back in a similar, annoyed tone. "Am I allowed to eat or do I need to ask permission?" The comment induced a quiet groan on Hermione's part, her eyes closing in both frustration and absolute fear of what was in store for her.

The next few days weren't what she had expected. Continuously preparing herself for an explosive argument kept her on edge, but Malfoy had failed to say more than a word since their arrival. He was a quiet being, she was realizing. One who didn't seem to care about the numbing boredom that came with the sudden transition to a muggle life. He rarely left his room, closing the door and disappearing for days at a time, only creeping out late at night to grab something to eat now and then. For the most part, Hermione felt as if she had the place to herself, and that was perfectly fine with her. So when she had left her room in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, she was surprised to see the soft glow of the television on, and hushed profanities being whispered before it.

She considered ignoring him. Just pouring herself a glass and heading back to her room, but her curiosity was peaked. She slowly padded into the living room, the view of Malfoy sitting on the ground with discs and cases strewn about him coming into focus. She stood there for a few moments, watching him slap away at the DVD player and calling it names that even a DVD player didn't deserve to be called before she finally asked, "What in the world are you doing?"

He jumped, obviously having not seen her, and when he looked at her in the dark she felt a sudden chill run up her spine. His face seemed even thinner than before, his usually neat hair free of product and falling into his face. There was a light shadow of facial hair that stained his jaw, and his eyes seemed sunken, and far away. She had barely seen him in the past week, and a pang of irrational guilt stabbed away at the pit of her stomach. Perhaps she should have checked on him…

"Nothing." Malfoy responded, turning his attention back to the player. He started smashing at the buttons again. In any other situation, Hermione would have found it amusing, really. He obviously had absolutely no experience with muggle technology, and although they couldn't get television all the way out here Harry was kind enough to leave them with some niceties. A television, a movie player, a radio… all of which Malfoy probably had no idea how to use. She again considered going back to her room, but before she could finish the thought she was walking over to him, sitting beside him in the mess of movie cases. She could feel him stiffen beside her but she ignored him, reaching forward to plug the device in. She was welcomed with flashing lights and a greeting on the screen.

"You have to plug it in."

"That's stupid."

"It's electricity."

"It's stupid."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pressed the eject button, watching the disc holder slowly creep out. "You put the movie in there." She explained calmly, and she watched as he silently placed the disk in upside down. She reached and corrected it before pressing it into the machine, hesitating to ask her next question. "When was the last time you ate?"

His sunken eyes flickered with life as he looked back at her, confused and seemingly cautious at the question. "Why?" He asked defensively, looking nervous. She frowned.

"You look horrid."

His caution turned into insulted defense. "I'm living in the middle of the fucking woods."

"When was the last time you ate?" She repeated.

"I'm living in the middle of the fucking woods with some bloody know-it-all auror who is supposed to keep me safe from a force that's more powerful than both of us combined and you wonder why I look horrid?" His voice was strangled and sounded as if it was on the border of hysterics, and Hermione could see his hands were trembling. He seemed to be searching for confrontation, a fight of some sort, and Hermione was unsure if it was because he was upset with her, or upset in general. She felt no pity for Malfoy, but she wondered how hard it would be to accept that you still had no freedom after turning your back on some very dangerous people in the effort to sustain it. She frowned before standing up.

"You should eat." Was all she said before turning to leave him, his eyes wide with frustration and something that almost resembled fear as he watched her go.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Draco seemed to have made an effort to leave his room before noon. He sat in the living area writing in a small book and watching a movie that seemed dreadfully boring to Hermione, something with a minimal plot and a lot of unnecessary explosions. She wasn't sure if he made the effort because of what she had said the night before or if he was just becoming bored living in the same small space day after day. Either way, she was glad to see him moving around, even though it made her uncomfortable now knowing that they were officially living in each other's space. For the first little while they seemed to work actively to avoid one another; one would walk into a room and, if the other was there, settle on sitting outside on the small deck or in their room. Although they were going to great lengths just to avoid the company of each other, both still seemed to manage to intrude in small and yet somehow insufferable ways. Hermione would put things away that were just fine where they were originally, and made them impossible to find without tearing the place apart. Draco, after tearing a place apart, seemed to never clean up after himself. Hermione even found a pair of knickers on the floor in the living area one morning and had to walk circles around the cabin to avoid screaming at the filthy, unorganized bastard.

Little to no words had passed between them and yet they managed to frustrate each other into madness. She would scrub and he would mess the place trying to find something, a vicious cycle. So when Hermione walked into the kitchen to find dirty pans strewn about the place and empty boxes, her anger boiled over. She had almost cleaned it up before deciding that she shouldn't have to, and she yelled to him in an edged tone. "Malfoy! MALFOY!"

She heard hurried footsteps and Draco practically skidded into the room after running full force, his hand grabbing the frame of the doorway to stop himself short as he searched the kitchen for her with wide eyes. "What is it?" He rushed, his hand moving to his side instinctively despite the fact that their wands were still in the cupboard by the door. "What's wrong?"

Ignoring the curious pang she felt in her stomach at the idea that he almost seemed _concerned _for her, she pointed at the stove. "Can you explain this to me please?" He looked confused, but apparently the expression she held was enough to convey her distaste because his face hardened.

"What are you rambling about, I thought someone was _in here-_"

"Someone is in here," she interrupted, "I'm in here and I'm looking at a complete and utter mess because you are absolutely, positively incapable of cleaning up after yourself. I am TIRED of doing your dishes, I'm not the maid!"

Draco blinked a few times as if trying to comprehend why she thought this was an actual issue before he immediately shifted into a defensive mode. "Well I'm _sorry _I don't scrub everything down immediately after every use, I'll clean it up later!"

"Later isn't good enough, later never comes! What are you going to do, leave it sitting in here for hours until it starts to smell? We don't have one of your precious house elf slaves to pick up your dishes and socks for you, Malfoy!"

She seemed to have pressed a button, and his eyes flashed in anger. "You think I don't know that, I said I would clean it _later, _not everything has to be bloody spotless the second it's finished it's use! It's not my fault you're obsessive!"

Her jaw dropped and her face flushed heatedly. "I am not obsessive for wanting a clean bloody kitchen!" She had raised her voice, still pointing menacingly to the mess atop of the stove.

"What's wrong with you, I said I would clean it later! You're acting like a lunatic, scrubbing the place down all the time as if we're going to have the Minister drop in at any moment!" He yelled in return, and if she wasn't so angry Hermione might have faltered. She had never seen Draco raise his voice, the emotion of true anger always seemed below him. He preferred to sneer or spit insults instead, but she was far too furious to be taken aback by his shift in emotion. Her annoyance with him had been filled to the brim for days, and it was finally spilling over.

"I AM NOT A LUNATIC." She snapped back in fury, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "You're filthy! You leave your things lying around all the time, you barely ever clean up after yourself, and you just expect me to shuffle after you, cleaning up your waste-"

"I don't EXPECT you to do ANYTHING," he cut her off loudly, "you're just so bloody obsessed with keeping everything in it's proper place that you move things before I can even GET to them!"

"I wouldn't have to move things if you didn't pick them up faster, you drive me absolutely MAD, Malfoy! It's as if you don't even care that you're living with another person!"

She had apparently said enough. Draco's response was feverish and resounding, and it held a grievance behind it that made her suspect he had been thinking about the words for quite some time. "HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT'S DRIVING YOU MAD IF YOU DON'T SPEAK TO ME?"

The comment made her fall into a stunned silence, although it did little to curb her fury. Her mouth opened to remind him brazenly that he seemed to be making no effort in speaking to her in return, but he added an afterthought before she could.

"And I have a first name, perhaps it wouldn't poison you to use it!"

She blinked a few times, caught off guard yet again. Being on a first name basis with Draco Malfoy had never really been the case, and the observation from him was a strange one. Everything about him was strange. He was yelling but there was a fire in his eyes that she hadn't seen since they arrived, as if he came to life from a dead sleep. His pale skin was flushed in excitement and anger, platinum strands that were neatly combed aside fraying into his eyes. Everything about him seemed extraordinarily bizarre, and the request to use his first name just added more to the expanding list.

"Fine," she began in a quavering voice, quieter than before but still trembling in heated resentment, "it drives me absolutely mad, _Draco, _that you live like a troll."

Apparently it wasn't what he was looking for, because he gave a frustrated cry and threw his hands in the air. Turning his back on her, Hermione thought that he was about to leave the room completely. Instead he turned back and planted his hands on his waist. "Well it drives ME absolutely mad, _Hermione, _when you sit there and act as if you're better than everybody else just because you're neurotic enough to demand instant results."

"I am not neurotic for wanting a clean home!"

"This isn't a bloody HOME!" His voice spike again at the end, and he threw his hand out to gesture into the living area. "It's a bloody prison that you're holing me up in so I don't end up getting murdered!"

"YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE STUCK HERE." Hermione's hands were trembling in outrage. "IF YOU THINK I WANT TO BE HERE TO BABYSIT YOU, MALFOY, THEN YOU ARE VERY SORELY MISTAKEN." Perhaps he was going to reply, but she didn't give him the chance to. She stormed past him, her shoulder colliding with his arm aggressively as tears threatened to burn in her eyes. She drove through the living room toward the front door and released an almost violent roar when she stepped on a movie case that Draco left lying about. She kicked it aside forcefully before throwing the front door open and raging off the patio into the front yard, only stopping when the air before her twisted in the threat of her crossing their protective barrier. She stopped and flopped down to sit in the grass and dirt, her fingers twisting wildly in her thick hair.

She was exasperated. Exasperated, and enraged, and everything in between, and she wasn't sure if she could do this. She had exploded at Draco, yes, but she was already feeling the culpability of doing so. It wasn't Draco's fault that they were stuck here together in such a small space, it was the people chasing after him, the monsters that wanted his blond head on a platter for naming names that the Ministry had no way of finding without his help. She missed her family and her work. Her friends, her home, and everything she loved was left behind because of this, and yes, she had unleashed all of that on Draco, and perhaps even he didn't deserve it despite the absolute pig he was. He seemed to have had suffered these past few years, there was something in him that was different and broken from the last time they encountered each other. Perhaps it was his pride, or perhaps it was his confidence. Perhaps it was both, but either way, she knew that neither of them wanted to be there, particularly with each other.

She cried a little at first, tears rolling down her cheeks until she wiped them away stubbornly, adamant not to be so upset over a little tiff with Draco Malfoy. She cried a little more after that, but not because of the fight. She grieved over the notion that she had no idea when she would see her parents again. She wondered what the boys were doing. She missed the Weasley's and the way that their home always smelled of something warm and inviting. She felt as if her life had been put on pause and the world around her kept moving, days continued to pass and lives continued to evolve while she sat there in the dirt, wishing only to be a part of it again. After that she could only stare out into the forest, at all of the trees and flowers that were just beyond their reach, and finally she settled in hugging her knees and watching the sun slowly sink down the canopy. How long were they going to be stuck here? When was Harry going to visit to check on them? When would she be able to stop feeling so very isolated? Lost in thought, she had barely heard Draco approach her until his dragon hide shoes came into view beside her.

She felt an uneasiness coil in the pit of her stomach, and she briefly wondered if he came out to yell at her again. It wasn't as if she didn't really deserve it, she had been a bit harsh, even she could admit, but she was in no mood to argue again. She felt fatigued already, and if an apology would make him go away she was more than willing to spew one out until he left her alone. He stood there for a few moments before shifting, and she glanced over to see that he was sitting on the patch of soil next to her before returning her gaze to the canopy before them. She considered asking him to leave but decided against it, afraid that she would spark a reaction out of him that she didn't care to handle at the moment. He seemed careful in his movements and she finally saw why; two mugs of tea were clenched firmly in his hands. He offered her one, and she almost gave him an incredulous look as if expecting him to splash the mug directly into her face before handing it to her. When she didn't take it immediately he continued to hold it out for her patiently until she finally conceded and wrapped her fingers around the handle. "Thank you." She muttered the words quietly over the rim of the mug before sipping softly, her eyes still trained on him to examine his face and see if he had done something to it. It was a light and floral flavor that she couldn't place, but surprisingly enjoyable, none the less.

"You're welcome." He returned in a soft tone. He treated the situation normally, as if he hadn't brewed tea for Hermione Granger, and that set her on edge even more than the tea itself had. His long fingers were wrapped around his own mug and he sipped it slowly, staring down into the swirling contents before adding, "I cleaned the kitchen."

She felt the bite of guilt again, and it quelled her suspicions just a bit. "Thank you."

"And the living room."

"Thank you." She said again, her cheeks a little flushed in shame as she sipped her tea again. She was still doubtful of the apparent peace offering, but the remorse was enough to keep her sharp tongue at bay. They sat in silence for a few moments. "I know that-"

"I didn't mean to-"

They spoke over each other. She finally turned her head to face him. "Sorry… you go first."

He nodded, his eyes moving up to survey the forest before them. "I didn't mean to snap at you. You're right, I'm not the only person being forced to be here and I don't take that into consideration often enough."

Hermione's eyes flickered in bewilderment. She wasn't positive, but she almost thought that his confession sounded like an apology. She wasn't sure what had happened to Draco within the past two years, but whatever it was had certainly changed him. Or crushed him. She didn't like thinking about which was more accurate. "It's fine," she settled cautiously, "I shouldn't have yelled. I just-" she trailed off. "Neither of us want to be here. I know this all must be very different for you."

He gave a dry laugh in response, one that didn't reach his dusty eyes. He continued to peer out into the trees. "Hardly." He broke his gaze to look back down at his mug, running a finger around the rim. "Believe it or not this is possibly the most contact I've had with another person in over a year." He looked back out at the canopy, and if he had noticed the stunned expression on Hermione's face he hid it well. "Things have been quiet."

She was unsure whether to prod or not, but her curiosity, as usual, got the best of her. "Well don't you have anyone to speak to?" She urged. "Anyone from school?" She immediately wondered if she had already pried too far because his face twisted into a scowl, but he shook his head faintly.

"I haven't kept in contact with anyone, no." He perceived that she was going to respond, because he quickly followed the thought with "not that I haven't tried." She fell silent again, the corners of her mouth tugged into a slight frown. "Everybody knows what I've done. Either I've had their family members apprehended, their friends, or I'm responsible for the death of them." He gave another sour laugh. "I think I've successfully accomplished being the only one who walked out of the war hated on both sides." He fell silent for a moment, but she could sense that he hadn't finished. "Sometimes I wonder if I should have just gone to Azkaban. At least then I'd still have my integrity intact."

The statement was an embittered one, she could tell. No one could possibly prefer to be in Azkaban, but the idea of being driven to consider it was a sad one in itself and things made a bit more sense now. Hermione clearly remembered that when Harry had done research on the Malfoy heir, he found it strange that Draco was pursuing no career and instead living off of his inheritance while his parents spent their time in prison. She had never considered that no one would hire a bloke with the title of a blood traitor and a former Deatheater all in one. It seemed blaringly obvious now that he had said it. It was, conceivably, the only reason he was out here now speaking to her. When you have no one to communicate with for so long, things like school year rivalries seemed trivial. Loneliness was a powerful incentive. "Well people must know that you didn't want to do the things that you did during the war" she protested weakly, the grip on her mug tightening. Draco shook his head.

"No one really believes that. I think the only reason the Ministry ever bought it was because I was the youngest one involved, they saw me as malleable. Easy to manipulate." He sounded bitter, but it was possibly because what the Ministry thought was the truth. He had been easily exploited. "Other's might know it but it doesn't really matter when they feel you've turned your back on them. Explanations always seem to be excuses in those cases." His eyes were going dark. "I think we should figure out a way to regulate chores around the place."

The sudden change of subject caught her off guard, but she didn't blame him. It was quite sad, all of it. She briefly wondered what Draco would be doing after all of this; perhaps sitting in a large manor alone. She didn't know when she would be able to go back to her life, but at least she had one to go back to. Draco, it seemed, had little to look forward to when they were finally allowed to leave their cramped little cabin. She finished her tea and balanced the empty mug on her knee. "I can make a chart of some sort." She offered, watching Draco closely. He nodded in approval and they sat in silence until the sun sank below the horizon, stars slowly flickering to life far, far above their heads.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione had fooled herself into thinking that the experience she shared with Draco the previous week had changed them. Looking back she was unsure of what she had expected, but she assumed that they would be civil to each other from that point on in the least. She had been sorely mistaken.

Malfoy barely spoke. She had tried to prompt conversation a few times but received short and unimaginative answers in return until she gave up all together, and now they took to sitting in silence all day, sometimes in the same room but doing their own separate projects. She almost wanted to pick a fight in the effort to get a rise out of him, and perhaps experience a little interaction in such a lonely environment, but she resisted the urge whenever it arose. It would have been nice to have someone to speak to when the thoughts in her head became too loud or consuming, but she didn't need Draco to entertain her. She wasn't on vacation, after all, and she had been through much worse than living alone with a ghost that occasionally sat in the same room as her.

It became more bearable as time passed. Spring was finally rolling in softly, and although the canopy above their cabin was thick enough to block out a good portion of sunlight enough had reached the forest floor to persuade the flowers into bloom. She couldn't leave the property, but the view was becoming more enjoyable every day, so she began to spend her free hours (which were practically all of them) outside. She had just settled into her rocking chair on the porch with a book in hand, mildly concerned that it was one of the last they had that she hadn't read, when she heard the screen door swing open behind her.

Draco approached her from behind before lowering a mug before her, saying nothing and waiting patiently for her to take it. She stared at it hesitantly, unsure of what his motivations were, but she finally set her open book face down upon her lap to take it with both hands. "Thank you." She said it more questioningly than originally intended, but it was the first interaction he had prompted on his own since their last real conversation and it seemed characteristically off to her. He said nothing in response and instead shifted past her, sitting in the chair beside hers with a small frown on his face. Hermione stared at him with caution still in her eyes but it began to give way to an annoying tug of concern at his appearance.

She would have never claimed that she was handling this situation well, but Draco always seemed to be handling it worse. There were dark bags that begged for sleep under his eyes, and the shadow of stubble that was on his jaw had grown into an mess that desperately needed grooming. She didn't even know where to start with his hair… perhaps with a comb? He sat there for so long with his own mug and stared out into the forest she had started to assume that he was just craving company, but when she set her tea down to grab her book he spoke.

"I need a favor."

Her eyes moved back to him with hesitance again, and she was starting to realize that Draco only brought her tea when he was trying to get on her good side. Fair enough. "What kind of favor?" She kept her voice even and unassuming. She had no intention on agreeing to anything until she knew what it was.

Draco's frown, if possible, seemed to deepen as he stared out into the trees and Hermione had to wonder whether he was purposefully avoiding her eyes. "It's about when Potter comes by. I was wondering if you could do something for me."

"Tell him that you're not home?" She drawled it sarcastically before she really thought about it, but she fell silent at the look that Draco suddenly laid upon her.

"No." He snapped a bit curtly, but she allowed it this time. Her frustrations with his recluse behavior were coloring her reaction to his approach, so she bit her tongue and waited for him to continue. When she didn't snap back his shoulders seemed to relax a little, the tension melting away until he returned to the tired-looking figure he had been before.

"I need him to find information about someone for me." He followed it up with a sigh when he saw the sudden suspicion on her eyes, "I just want to make sure they're alright, nothing more."

It took her a moment to respond. "Why don't you just ask him yourself?" She knew the answer before he gave it, however, and she gave an expression of reluctant understanding when Draco raised a doubtful eyebrow. Harry and Malfoy, despite the dramatics they had left behind in school, were still far from friendly terms with each other. Hermione wasn't sure if Harry would do a favor for Draco either, so she picked up her tea and looked at him expectantly. He shifted uncomfortably under her stare, but maintained eye contact this time.

"Pansy."

Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste before she could help it. "You mean Parkinson?"

Draco rolled his eyes impatiently, and she could tell when he spoke that he was trying to keep his voice calm. "No, I mean I would love it if he brought me a bouquet to brighten the kitchen a bit, yes Parkinson, don't be ridiculous." The look on her face must have given away her unwillingness because he pressed on. "I just want to know that she's alright, it's not like I can write to her here now can I? It's important to me. Please, Hermione."

She wasn't sure if it was the gentility in his tone, but the way he pled made the 'no' on the tip of her tongue fade away. She still wasn't used to him using her first name, but when he did it seemed forced. This time it came naturally, and for the first time since their last conversation, she felt as if he was speaking to her as an equal, a rare occurrence for Draco Malfoy. "I thought you said you hadn't spoken to anyone in practically a year…" she remembered weakly, and Draco gave a half shrug.

"I haven't." He admitted, looking away from her again. His voice was flat but the there was an edge to it, one that made her believe that this was much more important to him than what he was trying to let on. "We thought it best for both of us to keep our distance after the war. For our reputations." Hermione had to keep herself from giving a doubtful look. The only reputation that was at stake in that relationship was Pansy's, the Parkinson name wasn't nearly as damaged after the battle as the Malfoy's. She highly doubted that the decision to separate for publicity sake was conceived by both parties. She said none of it aloud. "I still worry about her though, I just want to make sure that she's doing well. We'd write but I'm here so…" He trailed off and Hermione could see the grip on his mug tightening.

"Do you plan on seeing her again?" She asked mildly, and he nodded.

"It wasn't anything permanent, just something to make sure that everything settled smoothly. We didn't know what was going to happen, whether I was going to Azkaban or what the future held… neither of us wanted her name tied to any of that mess. Once things settled we were going to pick up- I just need you to ask Potter." He stopped abruptly, as if just realizing that he was giving more information than he needed or very possibly wanted to. Hermione gave a low exhale before nodding and sipping her tea. "I can ask him. I won't guarantee that he'll say yes, but I'll ask." It wasn't an impossible favor, but her agreement seemed to relax Draco immensely. If she looked close enough, she could have sworn she even saw a smile.

"That's all I want, just for you to ask him-"

"On one condition." She interrupted, and Draco blinked before giving her a guarded scowl, his eyes narrowing. She waved her hand at him impatiently, "calm down, it's nothing serious. You look like a mess." She declared it so bluntly that Draco almost jumped, and the face he made looked similar to the one he gave her when she hit him several years ago. "Your hair is a mess, your face is a mess and you look like some caveman who crawled out from the mountains. If you start taking care of yourself before Harry arrives, I'll ask him about Pansy for you." He still looked insulted. "It's not healthy, Draco."

"Well I'm sorry that I haven't exactly been in the mood to-" he began defensively, but was promptly interrupted.

"The mood for basic personal grooming, hmm? Like I said, it's not healthy and you need to start getting more sleep. You look like you've been living underground!" She spoke confidently, knowing that she now had something that he wanted. She would have felt bad if she wasn't saying it for his own good, but she was almost _concerned _for him, despite their lack of interaction since their arrival here. The way he dragged himself around day by day like the living dead, it couldn't be good for anyone.

The look he stared at her with was still one of disgrace, but it slowly evolved before her eyes into something that resembled amusement, and for a moment she was confused. "What's wrong," he challenged with a smirk that was all too familiar, "want something nice to look at when you wander around the house?"

It took her a moment to decipher what he had meant, but when she did her cheeks flooded crimson. She was flabbergasted at the accusation, her confidence melting away almost completely as her lips parted and snapped shut in the repeated attempt at a rebuttal. She could have easily silenced him, making claims that she'd prefer to watch paint dry than to examine him gallivanting around the house, but he looked as if he was teasing her. She couldn't be sure; he had never teased her before, and now she was unaware whether he was trying to fluster her (which he had successfully done) or if he truly believe her to be shallow enough to demand he make himself presentable in her presence. The look of shock was finally replaced by one of fierce determination as she found the words to reply and tell him that she was only concerned about his basic health, because if he died in bed buried under a suffocating amount of filth she could possibly be blamed, but he raised a hand to silence her before she could say any of it. "I'll go take a shower." He smiled, standing and taking her empty mug from her hands. She turned to watch him go, her mouth still open to argue, but he was inside and the moment had passed.

She had stayed outside until the sun finally sank low on the horizon, taking its light with it and leaving her staring at the dark pages of her book. After eventually admitting that she could no longer see she went inside and was met with the sight of Draco sitting on the couch, reading a novel that she had already powered through the week before. His hair was wet but combed neatly, and his face was finally shaven clean. Although she was pleased that he had given in and groomed himself like a proper human being, she could find no excuse as to why he felt the need to lounge around in absolutely nothing but his knickers, thin silk boxers the only thing between him and complete nudity.

"Draco!" She cried his name in a surprised yelp as she quickly diverted her eyes, her cheeks turning crimson in both embarrassment and annoyance. "What are you- you do not live alone, go put on some clothing right this instant!" She refused to look at him, but she could hear the insufferable smugness in his tone.

"I thought you wanted something nice to look at." His casual tone sent her into another rage, and she looked around to scold him before wincing and turning away, as if she had forgotten about his bareness.

"Go put clothing on _now!_" She demanded.

"What's wrong, it's not like you haven't seen a naked bloke before, and I'm not even fully nude."

Hermione knew that there was no way for Draco to know whether or not she had seen a naked man before, it was an obvious bluff on his part, but he was right. She wasn't _completely _inexperienced, having had a few moments with Viktor Krum and heavier interactions with Ron. Both of those were in the past now, however, and she was far from willing to have Draco think it was acceptable for him to walk around so undignified. "We are housemates and you're being inconsiderate." It was a weak defense, but with the strength she held in her voice she thought that she got her point across nicely. She saw Draco shrug out of the corner of her eye.

"You just have a habit of bossing people around, I thought I'd see what would happen if I didn't listen for once."

"Is that what this is?" She cried, her frustrations bubbling up from her chest and into her voice as she finally gave in and faced him properly. "I tell you to wash your hair and you think that's reason enough to stroll around half _naked?_"

He shrugged again, a delicate blond eyebrow rising in curiosity. What he was curious about, Hermione had no idea. "I don't like being told what to do."

She knew that, of course, but she had no idea that Draco was still such an insufferable brat. His depressed demeanor had fooled her into thinking that he had matured a little within these past years, but this was no less than absolutely childish. She was glaring at him with such fury in her eyes that she barely noticed how broad his shoulders were above a slightly muscular chest that led down into a slim waist. And she certainly didn't notice how soft his pale skin looked, or how the shadow of blond strands trailed down lightly below the elastic rim of his knickers. No, she didn't notice any of these things because Draco was being ridiculous and when people were ridiculous it didn't matter how attractive they were. "Put on clothes."

"Or what?" He challenged, although his voice was much calmer and even a tad bit amused.

"Or I'll refuse to speak to Harry about Parkinson."

"No you won't." Malfoy stretched with a dramatic grunt, his arms reaching over his head as he released a yawn, his book lying on his lap. "We had a deal, you can't start tacking on extra conditions now."

Her rage had started to fade into something that almost resembled astonishment as she watched him stretch, wondering if he was honestly set on staying like this for the rest of the night as she _didn't_ notice the way taught muscle danced beneath the skin of his stomach. "You're absolutely insufferable." She claimed breathlessly, shocked at his gall. He flashed her a grin in return, and it certainly was _not _charming. Not at all.

"There is one thing you can do." Draco offered, and she looked at him cautiously before he continued with a cheeky smile. "You know the old saying, don't you? If you can't beat them-"

She hadn't let him finish his sentence. She grabbed a throw pillow from the nearest couch and tossed it at him, moving so fast that the wanker had almost no time to block the hit. The pillow collided directly with his face, and Hermione released a scream of frustration as she stormed off to her room, slamming the door to block out the echoing sound of Draco's laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione was awoken the next day by a loud banging upon her door. It stirred her from a deep slumber, her eyelids fluttering for a few moments before finally parting to take in the sight of her window. It was still dark out. Hermione was an early riser but not this early, and she groaned before rolling over and pressing her face into her pillow while willing the banging on her door to go away. It did, but as she began to drift off again it resurfaced, followed by Draco yelling from the hallway, "Hermione, get up!"

She groaned in frustration and annoyance but sat up, glaring at the door and praying that Draco could _feel _her fury through the thick oak. Apparently he didn't, because he only knocked louder until she was on her feet and angrily tearing at the knob to pull it open. "What?" she snapped at him, her eyes momentarily falling on his bare chest before moving up to find his face. She'd make a comment about how his hair was sticking up oddly on one side, but she doubted she looked much better; she could practically feel the frizz forming a nest atop her head. "I don't want to speak to you unless you're here to apologize." She continued before giving him a chance to respond.

Draco looked amused and it only fueled her mixture of anger between their previous conversation and being awoken. If she paid attention she would have noticed that he was still in his sleep pants, but she was much too busy hating the way his stupid eyebrows were cheerfully raised on his stupid and not at all attractive face. "Hermione-"

"I'm still furious with you." She cut him off abruptly, pushing a finger into his bare and completely hideous chest. "You're actions last night were unacceptable! Romping around half naked like some sort of animal!"

"Hermione, I-"

"And the first thing you do is wake me up at an ungodly hour and you haven't even _apologized _yet! Have you no shame? Just because you are conventionally attractive, and I say _conventionally _because I myself am _certainly _not intrigued by such infantile-"

"That's not why I woke you up-"

"Oh of COURSE it's not why you woke me up!" She raised her voice in an accusatory manner, her eyes widening and her blood boiling. "Because why would the prim and proper Draco Malfoy _ever _apologize for his childish and absolutely _obscene_ actions-"

"Hello Hermione."

That didn't sound like Draco. And Hermione knew it wasn't Draco because she was still staring him in the face, and had very acutely noticed that his mouth hadn't moved. No, it stayed in that infuriatingly not-charming smirk, and Hermione felt the heat of embarrassment rise to her face before she even had looked over to see Harry standing in their hall.

"Harry's here." Draco finally spoke, sounding smug, and the little prick seemed almost _joyous _of her slightly mortifying performance in front of her best friend. She would have slapped him but she had a feeling that it would have probably made matters worse, so she continued to stare in Harry's direction with a gaping mouth before finding words to force past her parted lips.

"…Hello Harry." It sounded much more sheepish than she had originally intended, her pointed finger falling from Draco's chest to her side when she realized she was still touching him. Harry gave her a little wave, and she could tell that he was working hard on training his expression to stay neutral. Yes. Mortifying indeed.

"We've been doing well." Draco chirped to Harry merrily, and she didn't have to look to know that he was grinning. She was reconsidering the fact that she hadn't slapped him. Yet.

"Sorry it's so early." Hermione was grateful that Harry started to speak and push the conversation along, because she was sure if he didn't she would have died on the spot of humiliation. "It's best if we keep the visits as sporadic as possible though, just a precaution. I assumed it was better to drop in early than late, considering you're usually the first one awake at the crack of dawn."

Hermione had barely heard a word her friend had uttered, replying her previous outbursts in her head. What did she call Malfoy? Attractive? _Conventionally _attractive, which was easier to defend, right? The pause in conversation made her realize that Harry must have addressed her, and she snapped out of her own thoughts to say hastily, "of course." The three of them stood motionless, and lest her face light up again she followed it up with, "I'll go make tea," and swiftly set off toward the kitchen.

She was thankful that neither of the boys bothered her while she puttered around with the kettle and mugs, scolding herself under her breath constantly until the water was ready. She made three mugs, and because she didn't wish to make two trips (and only because of that thank you very much, it wasn't as if she wanted to convey her annoyance with Draco passive-aggressively with company in the area) she called out sorely, "Get your tea, Draco," and traveled into the sitting room to hand Harry his mug. She sat across from him, having to consciously keep herself from glaring at the blond as he traveled into the kitchen, and her attention finally fell on Harry who looked, to her chagrin, entertained.

"You call him Draco now?" He questioned mildly, blowing on his tea and looking very distracted doing so. He was avoiding her eyes, possibly because he knew that the glower they held was near deadly.

"Well I can't very well be living with somebody while calling them their last name all the time, can I?" She hissed in discontent, trying to put enough confidence in her words to make him overlook the fact that it was absolutely possible to live with somebody while calling them by their last name. Harry only shrugged and nodded, giving into her. Possibly because he was a smart boy, and he certainly didn't make it this far only to be killed by Hermione Granger.

"I'm surprised to find you both alive, if I'm being honest." He expressed with a mild tone of bemusement, his eyes finally deeming it safe to meet hers again. Hermione could only shrug, her defensive walls faltering a little to show weariness. "We both know that neither of us can help our situation." Hermione knew she sounded distant and tired, but she was. She wasn't going to claim that she was stuck with the worst person in the world, but it certainly wasn't the best.

"What do you mean 'both of us'? She's the aggressive one." Draco had returned with his own tea, sitting beside Hermione on the couch with enough distance to make sure she wouldn't glare at him. She still did. "Practically tears my head off all the time, you saw her."

"Well I wouldn't have to if you just acted like a normal human being instead of an atrocious git." She growled, leaning against the arm of the couch to put more distance between the two of them. She was almost surprised to see Harry glaring at Draco as well before she suddenly remembered that they didn't get along. Everything that had happened before she was locked in the cabin seemed like another lifetime, and she had a brief sense of panic as she wondered what else she had forgotten, if she was going to forget everything other than this hellish cabin. She mentally scolded herself over such a silly notion.

"Don't look at me like that Potter, I haven't done anything to her." Draco drawled, making a show of rolling his eyes before sitting back into the couch himself. He didn't carry the same venomous tone as he usually did when he said Harry's name, and Hermione couldn't help but assume that it was because Draco was happy to speak to anyone at this point, even if it was Harry. She had to relate; it felt like centuries since she got to see another face, and her heart was suddenly heavy when she remembered that Harry wouldn't be staying.

"He hasn't done anything awful." She admitted grudgingly, waving her hand at Draco dismissively as she rolled her eyes herself. "He just never eats and when I tell him to he suddenly becomes the equivalent of a six-year-old." She didn't think that it was an odd statement, but with the way Harry was staring at her she wondered if it was. Harry probably didn't care about Draco's eating habits, she quickly noted. She fleetingly wondered if she was going to end up sounding like an expecting mother or Oliver Wood before a match, speaking of nothing but the mundane occurrences in their life. It wasn't like Harry could blame her though, could he? She couldn't exactly talk about the latest happenings at the Ministry, or anything else, for that matter.

"We've been doing well." Draco repeated his prior phrase, this time with much less enthusiasm. "We haven't had any breaches. We haven't seen a bloody squirrel in the past four days, much less a person. We're just sitting here and rotting away like the good citizens we are." His bitterness was palpable, and although Harry threw another scowl his way Hermione couldn't help but hide her small smile behind the brim of her mug. "Are we going to get out of here soon or is the world still exploding?"

"Don't be so dramatic." Harry barked at him. "We're doing this for your own safety, you've only been here for a few weeks-"

"_Weeks!_" Malfoy exclaimed almost comically, cutting Harry off while tossing his arm in a theatrical sweep to smack the back of his hand against his forehead. "It's felt like _years! _Does the sun still rise? What does the sky look like, do flowers still exist-"

"Stop that!" Harry snipped impatiently, and Hermione was grateful that he was loud enough to cover the small chuckle that escaped her due to Draco's behavior. She could admit (only to herself, of course) that it was nice to see Draco as animated as he was, even if it was at Harry's expense. Being locked within the cabin could drive them both insane without some sort of outlet and Draco's seemed to be teasing Harry, albeit in a much milder way than he used to. "We can't let you run around out there until we've captured and tried every Death Eater you named, unless you want Nott to find you first-"

"Theodore wouldn't lay a finger on me." Draco retorted, suddenly much more somber than before.

"Not Theodore, you arse, his father. Or have you forgotten how faithful he was to Voldemort?" Hermione couldn't help but notice the smugness on Harry's face as Draco winced. She suspected he had used Voldemort's name on purpose to get under Malfoy's skin, and she was surprised at how much that bothered her. Her face must have been neutral because Harry didn't seem to notice her discomfort when he faced her. "We've told everybody that you're visiting a sick relative, it's worked for the time being. Kingsley and Ron are telling the same story so nobody suspects anything yet. We've been planting some false stories though, trying to find out if there's a leak somewhere."

"Within the Ministry?" Draco sounded surprised, but Harry didn't look at him.

"Have you forgotten what people like your father did to the Ministry, Malfoy? It can't be cleaned up overnight." This silenced Draco, and Harry continued. "I should go. I can't stick around too long, but if there's anything you need me to bring you next time-"

"Books." Hermione responded quickly, leaving a silence afterward for Draco to make his own request. He didn't, having caught onto the fact that Harry probably wasn't addressing him anyway. "Let me walk you out at least." She leaned forward to place her mug on the table, standing to lead Harry to the door. He spoke the moment they were out of earshot.

"How are you? Really?"

"I'm fine."

"Hermione-"

"Harry." Her voice went soft and she offered him a small, reassuring smile. "I'm fine. I can handle myself, he's a pain but he isn't a troll, I don't fear for my life." She made sure to stare at him until his doubtful gaze dilapidated. She didn't love it here but she didn't want Harry to think that Draco was _horrible _to her, he didn't deserve that at least. "…Harry I have a favor to ask of you."

"The books?"

"Other than the books." She responded patiently but was unable to keep herself from rolling her eyes. "…Can you check on someone for me?"

Harry gave a confused blink. "Who?"

"Just tell me that you will first."

"Fine, I'll check, who?"

She took a few moments to answer, trying to think of a proper way to word her request, but she felt Harry growing impatient by the second so she finally blurted it out. "Pansy Parkinson." She didn't miss the bewildered expression Harry gave her before wrinkling his nose in displeasure. She continued before he could object. "Please, Harry, just check on her, you don't even have to speak to her! Just make sure she's alright, Draco was afraid to ask you himself."

"Probably because I wouldn't do it."

"Harry, you promised!"

"That was before I knew who you were talking about-"

"_Harry._" She pleaded this time, folding her hands before her to show her desperation. "It's just one little favor, you know Dra-Malfoy, since when has he cared about anyone other than himself? It must be important if this is his only request, please?" She was sure he would, but when he didn't answer she felt a fragment of dismay bloom in her chest. "Please? _Please-_"

"Alright, alright." He gave in, sounding absolutely adverse to the idea, but she gave him a bright smile. "But for you, not for Malfoy."

"I know!" Hermione confirmed quickly, throwing her arms around Harry in a tight hug before he could change his mind. "Thank you, Harry."

"You're welcome." He grumbled begrudgingly, but hugged her back with warmth. "I'll try to get you out of here as quickly as possible."

"Thank you." She said again, not wanting to let go. But she knew that she had to, so she released him and gave him a sad smile as he placed a hand on her shoulder and walked out of the cabin. She stood in the doorway to watch him, hugging herself against the chill outside as his figure walked further into the forest. The sun was just starting to peak above the horizon, giving just enough light for Hermione to see their protective barrier flicker as Harry walked through it and apparated out of sight. She didn't know how long she was staring at the spot he disappeared from before Draco's voice came from behind her.

"Close the door, you're going to get sick." He apparently thought that was too nice, because he followed it up with, "and the last thing I need right now is a cold." She sighed with a heavy heart and closed the door, turning to face the horrible prison she was locked into again. Draco was standing in the middle of the sitting room with a hesitant look on his face, but Hermione was much too distracted missing Harry and Ron and everybody else on the outside to notice. "Did you…" He began to speak but he trailed off, the cautiousness in his voice doing nothing to offset her bad mood.

"Yes, I asked him about Pansy." She bit back, feeling bad for her sharp tone but not caring enough in the moment to apologize. Draco nodded and avoided her eye, looking much too distracted with the rug in front of the fireplace to look at her.

"Thanks." He mumbled flatly, and Hermione huffed a quick "welcome" before walking back to her room and closing the door behind her.

She hadn't emerged until the afternoon, but Hermione was tired of wallowing in bed and thinking about how the world was still spinning while she felt so very stuck in place. Having raided the kitchen for something to eat that wasn't pure protein or vegetables she had decided to put herself to work, distracting herself with baking scones to go with the tea she was drinking too much of. She was in the middle of mixing the baking powder into the flour when Draco walked in, stepping past her without a word and reaching over her shoulder to grab a blueberry out of the small carton that sat behind her bowl. He knocked into her shoulder, causing her to drop her spoon into the dry mixture. Her temper spiked.

"Excuse you." She snapped sarcastically, shoving her shoulder back to push him away as she continued to mix much more aggressively this time. She couldn't see Draco behind her but she could just imagine him making a face of mockery as he responded.

"I'm sorry, have I interrupted the queen in her process of baking the royal muffins?" He was using that annoying drawl, the one he _knew _she disliked. At least, he had to have known that she disliked it, and if he didn't that was his own fault.

"They're scones!" She retorted curtly. "Not like you would know, since your incapable of making anything that can't be slathered between two pieces of bread."

"Oh, suddenly I'm expected to know how to make a bloody brisket then?" He sounded further away as if he had been leaving, unable to stop himself from feeding into her irritation.

"No," she started with a false calm to her voice, and she could hear it quavering on the brink of a shout. She had stirred her dry mixture more than enough, and yet she continued to twist the spoon around the bowl with surprising hostility. "You're expected to have manners like any other decent human."

"I took a blueberry, would you like to hang me by my thumbs?" More sarcasm on his part, and her agitation intensified.

"You bumped into me!"

"You were in front of the blueberries!"

"THAT'S WHY YOU SAY EXCUSE ME YOU DIMWITTED TWIT." She hadn't realized what she was doing until she had done it, dropping the spoon into the bowl and reaching over to the nearest object in the process. Her fingers dug into the open bag of flour at her side and her hand flung, an arch of white dust erupting from her palm and sprinkling the floor before the majority of it landed square in Malfoy's face. It exploded upon impact, clouding up into his hair and the lashes of his eyes, which had closed just in time. They stayed that way for a few moments before opening, grey iris' looking stark against the white sheet on his face.

Hermione stared at him with an expression of stubborn fury upon her face despite the absolute shock that detonated inside of her. She had just assaulted Draco Malfoy with flour, and it felt almost as satisfying as hitting him did all those years ago. She waited, and the shock slowly started to deplete into anxiety as he stood unmoving, staring directly at her. She didn't apologize, and why should she? _He _never did.

After what felt like ages he began to shift slowly, but Hermione tensed as if he had sprinted in her direction. His steps were almost sluggish as he made his way in her direction and yet she stood her ground, knowing there was more than enough time to escape into the other room. Her glare was almost daring him to do something.

And something he did. He stood before her, staring down at her with an expression that was surprisingly serene as he reached to the counter and dipped his hand into the flour. She knew what was coming and yet she couldn't move; he wouldn't dare. And yet there he was, scooping flour into his palm and holding it before her face for a few seconds.

"Don't you dare-"

He released it with a little toss, the flour puffing from his hand and covering her face completely. Her eyes squeezed shut tightly and she stayed like that for a moment, her fury so ravenous that she couldn't even move. Apparently he had waited, because when she finally looked up again he slowly reached over her shoulder, making direct eye contact with her and holding it firmly. "Excuse me." He prolonged coolly, taking another berry and placing it in his mouth directly in front of her.

She was enraged. She was _livid _as she stared back at him, watching him slowly chew his prize, and yet when she opened her mouth to scream, a scream did not come out.

She released a single chuckle, and then another. And then she laughed.

She laughed out of absolute unadulterated outrage, and then she laughed because she was laughing. And then she laughed because Draco looked absolutely terrified about the fact that she was laughing in the first place.

Apparently his terror had amused him as well, because a few seconds later his shoulders began to shake, and the hilarity of it all bubbled up in his chest before finally erupting in a roar of laughter, his hand rising to flatten against his forehead. The gesture caused a cloud of flour to sprinkle down between them, causing another peal of glee to erupt from them both until Hermione was covering her face with both hands and Draco was holding his stomach in pain.

It felt wonderful. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard, and she could feel the anguish and heavy cloud of sorrow that draped over the two of them for the past several weeks disappear, even for just a moment. Several attempts were made to stop and they all failed, both of them triggering the other into another fit of giggles whenever they caught sight of the other's face. Almost half an hour had passed before they managed to calm themselves, both sitting on the floor with their backs against the cabinets and tears in their eyes.

"You look absolutely ridiculous." Draco had managed, and the mirth in his voice made it impossible for Hermione to take offense.

"At least you can tell. You're so bloody pale I can barely tell the difference." She retorted almost immediately, which sent Draco into another small fit. It was a nice sound, she realized. She didn't think she had ever heard Draco laugh genuinely before. He finally calmed again.

"Are you going to finish your muffins?"

She hit him on the shoulder, unable to keep the grin she wore at bay. "They're _scones _and I won't be able to finish them if you keep eating all of the blueberries."

"Oh yes." He began with a surprisingly serious tone. "Everyone knows the first two blueberries are the most important ingredient to perfect muffins."

"_Scones!_" She corrected again, knowing positively now that he was teasing her. She found it strange that she didn't mind.

They sat beside each other on the floor, neither of them seemingly in a rush to go anywhere just yet. Silence fell over them, interrupted only by the occasional giggle here or there that seemed to erupt from either of them spontaneously. Hermione glanced over only once at Draco to see that he wore an almost blissful smile, his eyes closed and knees bent to rest his elbows upon. He looked better than he had in quite some time, so Hermione looked away and was quite content to sit a little longer.

"Thank you. For speaking with Harry about Pansy."

The appreciative comment caught her off guard. He sounded sincere and earnest, so Hermione wondered why her chest tightened uncomfortably when he said it.

"You're welcome." She softly spoke before they both fell silent again; staring at nothing in particular and being quite content doing so.


End file.
